Betrayed By My Husband, I Married His Billionaire Uncle

Anika, 25

By the time I stepped out of the airport, my entire body ached.

The long hours in a cramped seat had left my neck stiff and my shoulders sore, and dragging my luggage behind me only made it worse. I paused for a moment just outside the terminal, adjusting my grip and scanning the area out of habit.

I leaned against my suitcase, closing my eyes for a second. I had spent two weeks in New Orleans, cleaning up the mess Merrick’s local directors had made. I was the one who balanced the ledgers; I was the one who settled the strikes. 

Without me, the company was a house of cards waiting for a breeze.

But I wasn't even worth a seat on my own husband’s private jet.

"The jet was needed to fetch Miss Karla’s favorite chef from Italy, Ma’am," Merrick’s secretary had told me over the phone with a voice like cold stone. "Mr. Sterling says you can find your own way back. It’s just a flight, after all."

A flight. In a cramped seat, while I was already running on fumes.

I pulled out my phone. Not a single text or even a "welcome home." Just thirty missed calls from my mother and Merrick, all demanding to know why I wasn't at the hospital yet.

I dialed Merrick. He picked up on the fifth ring.

"What?"

The word was a shard of ice. No greeting or the expected are you safe? a good husband ought to say to his wife. I sighed.

"I just landed, Merrick. I’m at the airport. I thought you might have sent a driver, or maybe—"

"Take a cab, Anika. It’s not that hard to figure out," he interrupted, his tone bored and impatient. "I’m busy. Say what you need to say before I hang up."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

 Three years.

 We had been married for three years, and I still told myself his coldness was just a personality trait. He was a billionaire; he was busy. He loved me in his own way—he just didn't know how to show it.

"I’m exhausted, Merrick. I haven't slept in—"

"Your sister is waiting," he snapped. "She needs a transfusion. If you’re at the airport, get in a car and get here. Don't make this about your fatigue again."

The line went dead.

I find myself pausing after the conversation with him, wondering if there was something I had missed or something I should have said differently.

I shook my head lightly and stepped forward, heading toward the row of taxis waiting outside.

***

 The hospital was just as crowded as I expected.

I paid the driver and stepped out, adjusting my dress as I walked in. I had barely made it past the entrance when someone bumped into me, and before I could react, a cold splash spread across the front of my clothes.

“I’m so sorry!” the woman said quickly, holding up her drink.

“It’s alright,” I replied, smiling. 

She apologized again before hurrying off, leaving me standing there with a dark stain spreading across the fabric.

I pressed my lips together and glanced around before heading toward the restroom.

Inside, I leaned over the sink, dabbing at the stain with tissue. It lightened slightly but didn’t disappear.

I let out a groan. Today sulks. 

While I was still at the sink, two nurses walked in, their voices echoing off the tiles.

“Did you hear? Mr. Sterling is getting married.”

My hand paused mid-motion.

“Married? To whom?”

“I don’t know, but I overheard it from one of the staff serving him directly.”

“Whi could it be?”

“No idea, but it must be serious. A man like that doesn’t show up for just anyone.”

I straightened slowly, meeting my own reflection in the mirror.

Getting married?

A quiet breath left me as I dropped the tissue into the bin.

“They must be talking about Mirai again,” I said under my breath.

People liked to assume things when they didn’t know the truth. No one knew about my marriage to Merrick, not even most of the staff at the company.

After Karla’s accident three years ago, both families agreed it was better to keep it private. They said it would protect her, keep unnecessary attention away.

That was three years ago and honestly it was understandable at that time. But not anymore. 

I let out another sigh and pushed the thought aside and stepped out.

I walked toward Karla’s ward, my heart thudding. I just wanted to see him. I wanted to see his face, those brown eyes that I fell in love with back in college. Maybe if he saw how pale I was, he’d finally tell me to go home and rest.

The moment I stepped into the room, a shadow blurred in my vision and her hand struck my cheeks. 

The force of my mother’s hand sent me reeling. My bag dropped to the floor, and I gripped the doorframe to keep from falling. My cheek burned with a white-hot sting.

"You stupid, selfish thing!" my mother hissed, her face contorted. "Do you think you’re so important now? Just because Merrick sent you to New Orleans, you think you can stay there forever? Do you want your sister to die?"

My cheek burned, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “I came as soon as I could. I was working—”

“Working?” she cut in sharply. “Is that more important than your sister’s life?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Merrick’s mother stepped forward.

"It’s not just pathetic," my mother-in-law stepped forward, her eyes raking over my stained dress with disgust. "It’s disgraceful. Thank God we kept this marriage hidden. I would hate for the public to see you representing our family looking like a beggar."

My eyes stung. I looked past them, searching for Merrick. He was standing by the window, looking immaculate in a charcoal suit. He didn't look angry or concerned. He just looked annoyed.

"Merrick," I whispered. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked quietly.

He raised a brow slightly. “About what?”

“The jet was taken,” I said, my voice tightening despite myself. “I had to book another flight. That’s why I’m late.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he replied. “You should have planned better.”

Something in me went still.

“I came as fast as I could,” I repeated.

He stepped closer, his tone lowering. “Karla needed you hours ago. Try to remember that.”

I held his gaze for a second before nodding once.

"Don't brood over a slap," he said, his voice dropping to that low, hypnotic tone that used to make me feel safe. Now, it just felt empty. "Get through the transfusion, and then we’ll talk about the paperwork for the merger. I need you to handle the filing by tomorrow morning."

He paused, his eyes flicking over my face for a fraction of a second. "Are you okay?"

The smallest spark of hope flared in my chest. I opened my mouth to tell him I felt like I was fading away, but a small, pained wince came from the bed.

"Merrick… it hurts," Karla whispered.

Merrick didn't wait for my answer. He turned his back on me instantly, rushing to Karla’s side. He took her hand and brushed a stray hair from her forehead.

I lowered my eyes.

Of course.

"Anika, I'm so sorry," Karla sobbed, her eyes large and watery as I was led to the chair beside her. "I'm making you go through this again. It would be better if I just died than to keep hurting you like this."

I reached out to touch her arm. “It’s fine. Just focus on getting better.”

“That’s enough,” my mother said sharply. “Don’t let her start twisting things again.”

“I’m not—”

"It’s sad how wicked you are, Anika. Making your sick sister feel guilty while she’s fighting for her life. Just sit down and be useful for once." Sharon, Merrick's mother , attacked.

I said nothing. 

“Please begin,” my mother said, signaling to the doctor.

I watched as the blood flowed steadily through the tube, the faint metallic scent lingering in the air.

At first, it was manageable.

Then the weakness started to settle in.

“I feel a bit lightheaded,” I said quietly.

The nurse looked at me with concern. “Do you want us to pause?”

“No,” my mother said immediately. “Continue.”

“I really don’t feel well,” I added, my voice softer now.

“You’ll be fine,” she replied without looking at me. “Stop making a scene.”

I tried to focus, but the room felt heavier by the second.

My fingers went cold, my vision starting to blur at the edges.

"Doctor..." I tried again. My tongue felt heavy.

The male doctor stepped closer, a frown deepening on his face. "Her blood pressure is dropping too fast. We should stop the infusion."

"No way!" my mother snapped. "She has no use other than to give her sister life. Anika, stop being so selfish. Close your eyes and breathe."

I tried to breathe, but the air felt thin. Across from me, Karla started coughing—a harsh, wet sound.

Instantly, the room erupted. The nurse shifted her attention away from my needle to Karla’s monitor. 

My mother and my mother-in-law crowded around her bed, shouting for the doctor. Merrick was right there, his arms around Karla, his face a mask of genuine, agonizing fear.

"Karla! Stay with me!" he yelled.

I watched them. I was three feet away, the blood still draining from my arm, and I was invisible. I was a faucet they had turned on and forgotten to shut off.

I reached out a hand, trying to grab Merrick’s sleeve, but my fingers couldn't find purchase. My head fell back against the headrest and my grip loosened against the bed.

The ceiling above me started to spin slowly.

I tried to stay awake, but my body refused to cooperate.

The last thing I saw was Merrick leaning over Karla, his voice soft, his attention completely on her.

And then everything went dark.